


All About the Other Professor

by mrs_squirrel_chester



Series: Professor John Winchester [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Angst, F/M, Female Reader, Fluff, John Winchester / Female Reader - Freeform, Professor!John, Professor!John / Female Reader, Professor!John AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-10 10:23:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5582083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrs_squirrel_chester/pseuds/mrs_squirrel_chester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reader tells John the truth about Professor Shurley.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All About the Other Professor

You slid off the motorcycle as soon as John killed the engine. After pulling off your helmet and hanging it on a handlebar, you sprinted into the college, quickly winding your way through the maze of halls to Chuck’s office. You and John rounded the last corner just as Chuck threw a punch at Dick Roman.  

“You lying son of a bitch!” The voice that roared out of Chuck didn’t even sound like him, and it drove shivers down your spine. 

Roman landed on his ass with a grunt, grabbing his jaw before he stood. His face was red as he struggled to keep his anger in check. “Mr. Shurley, you’ll be hearing from my lawyers.” He shoved his tie back into the dark suit jacket.

The pair of you basically slid between the scuffle. While John turned on the charm and ushered Roman back to his office, you stood in front of Chuck. He was breathing heavily, hands balled into fists at his side, one of which was trickling blood onto the floor, and cursing under his breath.

Taking in the sight, you crossed your arms. “Jesus, Chuck. Are you ok?”

“I’m perfectly fine, Y/N.”

“Like hell you are. What were you thinking?”

Chuck’s eye twitched as he rubbed at the back of his neck. “Did you know he’s been talking about me behind my back?”

“What are you talk- oh, God.” You pinched the bridge of your nose, blowing out a heavy breath that made your shoulders sag when you realized exactly what was going on.

Your best friend stormed into his office and ripped some Kleenex from the box on the edge of his desk. “That’s not all that sneaky son of a bitch is up to. He’s been making these calls really late at night, conducting meetings that aren’t on the books, and keeping secrets from the staff. I think he’s planning something.”

“Chuck, look at me.”

But he didn’t. Instead he paced back and forth behind his desk, wiping at his bloody knuckles. “I’ve heard him, _seen_ him sneak out of his office, Y/N. You don’t know what it’s like having people plotting against you.”

You stood in front of him and grabbed his shoulders. “Hey! How long has it been since you’ve taken your meds?”

“That’s not important. What’s important is that Roman –“

“It’s very important! How long has it been?”

He shrugged out of your grip and took several steps back as if you had hit him. “You don’t know what it’s been like for me. You… you left me to defend for myself!”

“That’s not true. You know that Roman -.”

“And now you’re sleeping with John?” His eyes burned with betrayal.

“I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”

“You thought I wouldn’t know, didn’t you? I can _smell_ him on you, Y/N. Like a dog that’s marked his territory.”

Chuck had said some pretty hurtful things to you in the past, but nothing that low. “Come with me. I’ll call Doctor Singer, and we’ll get things sorted out.”

“I don’t want you anywhere near me.” He almost slammed into John as he tore out of his office.

John stumbled back to avoid colliding with Chuck, throwing a thumb over his shoulder. “He ok?”

You shook your head as tears threatened to fall. “No.”

He was in front of you before you could blink. Large hands cupped your face as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Are _you_ ok?”

You sank against him in resignation and shook your head. “No.”

* * *

The whiskey was smooth, aged almost fifty years, and went down a little too easily, but you couldn’t stop yourself from one more helping. Of course, that led to three more, which led to six. By the time you were done with the eighth glass, you were pretty damn sure you’d be throwing up later if you didn’t get some food in your system.

The head of a Rottweiler mix rest heavily on your thigh. You scratched behind her ears while she stared up at you with sad eyes, whining low every so often. You had to clear away the emotion that clogged your throat.  “Chuck is a paranoid schizophrenic.”

John blew out a breath as he took the glass from you, pouring himself a healthy helping. “When was he diagnosed?”

“Not even a year after I started working with him. He was always a little eccentric, but when he started talking about having visions that the world was ending, that he was a prophet of God, I knew it had to be something more. It took almost another year before Doctor Singer found which medicines worked best.”

“But he stopped taking them.”

Chewing on your thumbnail, you nodded. “It’s the only explanation. You should have heard him going on about how Roman was keeping secrets and planning something. And I think… I think me leaving triggered his relapse.”

He grabbed your hand and squeezed until you met his gaze. “This isn’t your fault.”

Fresh tears pricked your eyes. “Of course it’s my fault. He’s my best friend and I left him.”

“Roman pulled you from his service, that wasn’t your decision. And from what I’ve seen, you’re an amazing friend. You’re always calling him, you eat lunch with him almost every day. The last thing you’d want is for him to be hurt, right?”

You swiped at your damp face. “Of course.”

“Ok then. So, what do we do?”

“John, you don’t have to do anything.”

He shook his head and scooted closer. “I want to, darlin’.”

Chuckling ruefully through the tears, you leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Thanks.”

He returned the kiss, chuckling when your stomach growled. “You still hungry? I can whip up something.”

“That’d be great.”

As John wandered into the kitchen with Bisou trailing him, you helped yourself to one more glass of whiskey. What were you going to do? On one hand Chuck was a grown ass man that knew damn well what he was doing when he decided to stop taking risperidone and clozapine. On the other hand Chuck was your mentally ill best friend, and if the roles were reversed, you wouldn’t want someone you loved to give up on you.

You pulled out your phone and dialed Doctor Singer’s emergency number.

* * *

Doctor Robert Singer rest a hand on Chuck’s abnormally thick file. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“I’m sure.” You smiled when John grabbed your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. You had told him he didn’t have to come, but he wasn’t backing down. _‘Not a chance, sweetheart,’_ he had said with a playful wink.

“It might take some time to get a judge to sign off on this. You’re not the executor of his estate or anything like that.” Doctor Singer had always been a bit rough around the edges, but you knew from experience that it was all an act. Never let them know how much of a softy you really are.

“As long as he gets the help he needs.”

“Y/N, if he is as bad as you say, then we’ve got a long road ahead of us. Anything you’ve seen or heard before will be nothing compared to what’s coming. Now, I know it sounds like I’m trying to talk you out of this, but I assure you I am not. I just want you to be prepared for anything that Chuck might do or say, especially to you. You’ve come to mean a lot to him over the last four years.”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you nodded once. “I’m sure.”

* * *

John leaned back against the motorcycle, pulling you between his legs with his hands on your hips. “How ya doin’?”

With a shaky chuckle, you shook your head. “I don’t know. I just signed the consent forms for my best friend to be committed against his will.”

“You look tired.” He tucked your hair behind your ear, squeezing the lobe between his thumb and forefinger.

“Feel like I could sleep for a week.”

“Want me to bring you home?”

Gnawing on your bottom lip, you played with a buckle on his leather jacket. “Can I… stay with you?”

“Whatever you need.”

You blew out the breath you didn’t know you were holding before you kissed him, dragging your fingers in the short hairs at the nape of his neck. He moaned against your lips, breaking away before he got carried away. “Hop on.”


End file.
